A few nights ago, my dog, Buddy, and I were out for our evening walk on a winding country road that goes up and down several hills. As we came to the crest of one of those hills, I was startled to see a baby bear about 40 feet away, eating a snack of trash on the side of the road.
He was as adorable and fluffy as any stuffed one I’d ever seen, and I really wanted to get closer for a better look. Or at least I did until I heard the footsteps of something quite large just over the side of the hill. Assuming it was Mama Bear, Buddy and I sprinted off.
Earlier today, my daughter thought she heard a mouse under her bed. It was ironic, because the exterminator had been there only an hour earlier and saw no problems. That should have reassured us, as should the fact we have two chronically hungry cats. Nevertheless, there we were, fretting about a possible mouse under the bed.
Picture two grown women, rubbing their chins and nervously eyeing a perfectly innocent bed. My daughter kicked it a few times from her desk chair, with her feet safely off the floor in case anything scampered out. Nothing happened. I listened intently for any sign of squeaking or scratching. No sounds except the gentle hum of the air-conditioning unit. One of us was just going to have to take a peek.
Yesterday morning I left home early enough to catch a perfect spider web spun across the width of my road. Lit with morning sunshine, the dew sparkled on its many spokes like a million tiny lights. The intricate detail was lost on me as I drove right through it. In fact, I didn’t even notice it. It wasn’t until I pulled into the parking lot that a vision of the unspoiled web popped into my head and I realized what I had done.
I walk a lot. Up and down my hilly road, on the trail behind my house, on trails through the Blue Ridge Mountains – even in circles around my dining room table when I can’t get outside. Walking calms my mind and exercises my body, but it can also soothe my soul. I know a lot of us are walking even more in these days of closed gyms and social isolation, so here’s an idea for turning those walks into moments with God.
If you are on a time limit, set the timer on your watch or cell phone to three minutes for each of the sections. If you’re not on a strict schedule, just allow each part of the meditation to spontaneously conclude on its own.
Introduction: Start your walk simply by inviting God to show you His creation. Thank Him for this specific time together. Stand still for a minute and take a few deep breaths to clear your head and engage your body. Then start walking at a comfortable pace.
We love celebrating New Year’s Eve with fireworks, but our tradition almost didn’t happen the year Jordan was born.
The weather was exceptionally cold, and tiny sleet crystals fell off and on throughout the day. An ice-crusted blanket of snow covered everything in sight. It was too cold for the girls and I to go outside, and there was nowhere clear enough for Neil to set off fireworks.
Jordan was only three days old and Jackie not yet two years, both too young to know what they were missing. But Gina was seven, already well acquainted with the tradition, and disappointed to give it up just because the weather was bad.
“Please, Daddy,” she begged. “There’s got to be something you can do!”
After mulling it over, Neil did what any dedicated dad would do, and came up with a plan. He decided to set the fireworks off on our deck.
He spent the late afternoon in preparation. He chopped ice off the railings and threw it overboard. He shoveled a path down the middle of the deck and salted it to minimize sliding. He made sure the windows were clear of winter dirt and dragged away any potentially flammable outdoor obstacles.
Once darkness fell, Neil pressed the oversized living room chair against the French doors and settled me in the middle with the baby nuzzled asleep in my lap. He perched Jackie and Gina on piles of fluffy blankets and excitedly revealed his plan. Bundled up like the Michelin Man, he headed outside.
